“In the midst of my worry my father fell into a state of bad health and we took him down to the Devonshire coast for change of air.  Needless to say Henshaw soon found out our retreat, and to my dismay appeared there.  His persecution went on with renewed vigour and I, having less chance there of escaping it, was nearly at my wits’ end, when fate curiously enough again intervened.  We were caught in a storm on a long country excursion, my stepmother got a severe chill and within a week was dead.  We returned to Haynthorpe, my father being now in a very precarious state of health, Henshaw followed us with a pertinacity that was almost devilish.  But I now ventured to defy his threats of exposing me; he strenuously denied any such intention and declared himself madly in love with me.  I had now taken courage enough to reject him uncompromisingly; I forbade him ever to speak to me again, and, as after that he disappeared from the village, began to flatter myself that I had got rid of him.

“My father grew worse now from day to day; he lingered through the summer and with the chill days of autumn the end came.  Dick hurried home and arrived just in time to see him alive.  He left a much larger fortune than we had supposed him to possess, and Dick, always fond of sport, was soon in negotiation for this place which had come into the market.

“No sooner had we settled in here than, to my horror, Clement Henshaw began to renew his persecution.  He had evidently heard that I had inherited a good share of my father’s fortune, and was worth making another effort for.  He recommenced to write to me, he came down secretly and waylaid me, and when everything else failed he resorted to threats, not veiled as before, but open and unmistakable.  He vowed that if I persisted in refusing to marry him he would take good care that I should never marry any one else.  He held, he said, my reputation in his hand; he hoped he should never have to use his power, but I ought to consider the state of his feelings towards me and not goad him to desperate measures.  In short he took all the joy out of my life, for I had come from mere dislike simply to loathe the man who could show himself such a dastardly cad.  And the worst of it was that I saw no way out of it.  Dick is a good fellow and very fond of me, but, although you might not think it, he is almost absurdly proud of the family name and its unsmirched record.  And if I had confided in him, and he had horsewhipped Henshaw, what good could that have done?  It would simply have infuriated the man, who would have at once made public my escapade, and few people would have given me the credit of its being innocent.  Dick had just sunk a large part of his fortune in this place, he had taken over the hounds and was certain of becoming popular.  All that would be nullified and upset if this man, Henshaw, chose to let loose his tongue.  For how could I even pretend to deny his story?  At the very least the truth would mean